Imladris
by TrainScribbler
Summary: A few short weeks. An unfamiliar place. A young girl, an Orossi, finds love in the arms of the most unlikely of creatures... A hobbit. Bilbo/OC. (Accompanying artwork to be found at my Deviantart, username also TrainScribbler Including the full version of the picture I used for the cover!)
1. Prologue

**Well, welcome to my attempt to gently, reverently, but undoubtedly with a great rush of girliness, embrace my long beloved world of Tolkien. I do this with the utmost affection and respect, but I also know if won't nessecarily be to everyone's taste. These are sacred paths upon which we tread hehe. If it is to your taste however, I really hope that you enjoy it, and look forward to reading any comments you have to make! Also, I now have a DA account for all my fanarting/fanfiction ramblings, there are some drawings and things to go with this story, please feel free to come visit! www . trainscribbler . deviantart . com  
**

**With than then, I leave you with our dear hobbit...  
**

* * *

_Bilbo Baggins sat looking through the loose leaves of paper and parchment he had collected together at his desk, gnarled hands trembling as he slowly turned them over one by one. Occasionally he would chuckle under his breath as scraps of map with hurried notations would bring memories flooding back to him. He was not the same hobbit he had once been and very much liked the one he was now. Moreover, he was rather pleased with the way the one he was now had come about. Handling these slips, these precious relics, it was all coming back to him. _

_He paused as he came across a portrait on what was now softened and yellow paper, breaking into a grin, his fingers resting on his chin. Etched in ink, bright eyes were looking back up at him from underneath tousled hair, something altogether… _Tookish_ in the slight smile that played on carefully rendered lips. _

_No, he wasn't the same hobbit anymore. And although he was blessed with not looking his full age, he did not feel as spry as he had been here. He was actually beginning to feel extremely tired. But not then. Then he had been full of wonder and no small amount of mischief. Though admittedly, it had taken a bit of prodding to get it out of him. _

_Carefully he set the portrait on his desk with the other papers, resting it on the book stand and turning to the next one in the pile. He stiffened as he looked down, gently touching the sheet. This one was less than half the size of the last and even softer. It was another drawing, the pigment all but faded with age. Reverently Bilbo slipped his hands underneath it and lay it on his desktop with a soft "oh…" Unable to help himself, he ran his fingertips over the faint lines, the profile of a woman, her features soft and framed with tendrils of hair that cascaded over her shoulder. Her gaze was somewhere beyond, light captured in her eyes, the moment immortalized on this page. _

_Bilbo found himself smiling as he traced the drawing with the lightest of touches. She'd sat so patiently on that bier, watching the sky change colours, the sound of tumbling water around them…_

_The hobbit started as he heard a door close behind him. Quickly he snatched the papers from the stand and threw them on top off of the drawing on the desk as his young cousin came into the study, boldly helping himself to the portrait of the much younger Bilbo with a laugh. As he chastised Frodo for rifling through his things, inside he felt everything slump in relief. She was his secret. She always had been and always would be. He was prepared to answer most questions, but not any concerning that…_

_Much later than night, Bilbo would find himself slipping the drawing into a leather roll for sake-keeping and adding it to the small bundle of possessions he would take to Rivendell with mixed feelings. All he knew was that there was no question of leaving it behind. _

* * *

**60 years earlier...**

* * *

A stream of silver caught the light of a full moon as a figure flew between shadowed columns of pearlescent stone, satin clad feet soundless as they sprinted. Beyond there were the calls of horns, strangled and desperate in the night. Fair heads with pale faces were emerging from their homes, spilling into the streets as the shimmering creature floated down a vast, curved staircase, two plated guards abandoning their posts at the bottom to follow her. A horn sounded once more, a single silver note pealing into the night, ponies staggering into the valley that encircled them, covered with mud and sweat and worse, their riders bedecked with silver armour that was tarnished from battle. At their head was the owner of the horn, clutching the curled cream cornet in one hand while the other fist was closed around his reins, his features grim. As he and his company of broken looking men approached the girl, she saw that another man was strewn limply over his lap and her heart plummeted.

She ran, though she did not feel her feet touch the ground. The sombre faced man dismounted his dappled pony, the animal kneeling on it's forelegs so that he could retrieve the other passenger. He carried his fellow in his arms as though he was weightless, cradling him. The girl was sinking, her legs unable to bear her anymore, the stone ground cold and unyielding beneath her.

"Varnaer…" she whispered. Her voice trembled.

She could feel a tightening within as her the man knelt before her, her lily white hands reaching out to take the fallen man, his head resting in the crook of her elbow, platinum hair caked with congealing blood. He had been handsome in life but now he looked sallow, his eyes still open, sunken and lightless in his face. She held him tightly to her breast, her eyes burning as she touched his bottom lip, her fingertips stained crimson from the cracks in it that helped tell the story of the beating he had received.

"Varnaer," she said again soflty, the tightness in her abdomen growing worse. She could feel a horrible, chill wetness soaking through the sleeve of her gown from the back of his head. "What have they done to you..?"

She began to weep, pressing her cheek to the dead soldier's forehead, her tears causing tracks in the grime as they fell from her face to his.

"Forgive me, my daughter," the armoured man mumbled, his own words cracking. "He fell protecting our people. I could not save him."

Her father reached out, cupping her face, curling his fingers into the fine tresses of her hair. His other hand he rest on the back of the fallen man's head, bowing his own. Around them the people lingering in the streets began to whisper, then a wail went up into the night as the father and daughter clutched each other and their deceased loved one tightly, buried in their grief. A cry broke the air, announcing it to all;

"The prince is dead!"

* * *

In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. A hobbit who was a creature of habit and comforts, who appreciated the small things in life, like a comfortable armchair and the whistle of a boiling kettle. A hobbit who was now staring with no small amount of perplexity at the several feet of contract that had been left on his chair-side table, complete with signatures from both Thorin and Balin. The contract that had been presented to him with the intention of binding him into becoming a burglar for a band of raucous dwarves.

And the reason he was staring at it with no small amount of perplexity was because there was a blank space at the bottom and he was actually contemplating filling it in with his own name.

Bilbo Baggins slipped his thumbs under his braces, running them up and down a couple of times as he looked away, muttering to himself,

"Now just stop that right now, Bilbo…"

He wandered into his kitchen, busying himself with building and striking a fire in his hearth and hanging his copper kettle over it. He was just spooning some tealeaves into the pot when he glanced up and through to the empty drawing room, an uncomfortable lonely feeling in his stomach. Last night it had been so very full and felt so very small. But now…

The hobbit set the caddy of tea down on the table, one hand on his hip, the other resting on the back of his head as he stared. It really did look empty…

"I must be mad," he muttered, crossing towards the drawing room in three long strides.

Twenty minutes later he was racing down the path from his comfortable, safe hole, contract flailing in his tight fist, having forgotten his good walking stick and a great many other things that he would find himself missing a good deal further down the road.

* * *

Slender hands holding the leather reins of a white pony's bridle, the sylph-like girl looked down at her father with eyes rimmed red from tears. The prince's funeral had not even been an hour ago, but already her father was bundling her up into the saddle, two guards flanking her. She was still swathed in the black robes she'd worn whilst her brother's body was burned, the smell of smoke rising from the fabric and making her retch. She looked down at her father, his sharp features lined with sorrow as he avoided her gaze.

"Take her swiftly to Imladris, the elven lord is waiting for her. Do not let any harm come to her."

The girl leant over, reaching a hand out to her father, voice breaking.

"Please, father, do not send me away…"

He sloped his steel grey eyes up to hers and for a moment she could see true regret in them as he took her hand and pressed it to his cheek.

"You must go, Aereya. I cannot have you here until the goblin scum that took Varnaer from us has been destroyed. Do this thing for me, please," he said softly. He released her hand and tugged on the straps of her bridle, before giving her escorts a pointed look.

"Go now. See her there safely," he said coolly. The guards nodded and crossed their fists over their plated breasts before the king gave his daughter's pony a light tap on it's flank to send it on it's way up of the path that led out of the secluded valley and onwards to the safety of Rivendell.


	2. Chapter 1

**Goodness me, I'm so surprised that people are reading/reviewing already! Thank you so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter ^^**

* * *

Bilbo couldn't help himself. As he stood looking down into the valley of Imladris in the warmth of the evening sun, he felt a wholly unfamiliar and slightly embarrassing feeling; he was excited. Somewhere behind him he could hear Thorin and Ganfalf arguing but it made little mind in that moment. Below him was the most wondrous place he had ever seen and the ever stronger Took side of him wanted very much to stride down the path, with or without the dwarves, towards it. He hated to admit it but he was rather taking to this whole adventure business…

* * *

Some hours later he was sat at a low table amongst his dwarves comrades, in Elrond's own chambers, scarcely able to believe it. To think that just a month before he had been about to sit down to supper in his small kitchen on his own. Well, look at him now. What would his father have thought?

Around him the dwarves were being their usual selves, looking wholly unimpressed with the elvish food that was spread out before them. Bilbo quietly chewed on a piece of excellent seeded bread, trying hard to look like he wasn't enjoying himself. They would never let him hear the end of it otherwise.

He was sandwiched between Balin and Gloin, their broad shoulders practically pinning him. Beside their table was Elrond's own one, Gandalf and Thorin sat with him. If he strained, Bilbo could hear snippets of conversation; the elf lord was looking at the swords they'd acquired from the troll hoard, recounting their history. With an arched eyebrow the hobbit looked down at the small dagger laying across his own lap, pulling it a couple of inches from it's sheath, when he heard Balin say kindly;

"I wouldn't bother, Laddie. Swords are named for their great deeds they do in war."

Bilbo looked up at him, eyes widening slightly.

"What are you saying? My sword hasn't seen battle?"

"I'm not actually sure it is a sword," Balin said with a small smile. "More of a letter opener, really."

Bilbo blinked, then looked down at the curved dagger in his hands. With a sigh he snapped it back into it's sheath, cheeks burning. Balin put a hand on the hobbit's shoulder with a laugh, inclining his head.

"Be grateful for it, my boy. There are worse things than not seeing battle, I can tell you."

"It's a pity the others don't see it that way," Bilbo mumbled, glancing around the table at the rest of the dwarves. Balin's smile broadened and he patted the hobbit's shoulder a couple of times.

"Don't you worry, Laddie. It'll come good before the end."

For a while after that Bilbo sat in silence, quite put off his food. He fiddled with his napkin, balling it up on his plate, the music of the elves a welcome distraction. Balin was talking with his brother, Gloin and some of the those nearest to them conversing noisily in Dwarvish. The hobbit prodded a bit of lettuce, missing his fire and his settle and his books. After a while he saw Elrond lean over to say something to Gandalf in low tones, the wizard staring after him in surprise as their host got to his feet and glided down the steps from the balcony. Curious, Bilbo swivelled in his chair to watch where he went, wondering if he could be excused soon.

Elrond strode into the main circular chamber of his rooms, disappearing off to the left. After a few moments he reappeared again, his gait slightly stooped as he lent down to steer a small figure by the shoulder, speaking to them in hushed Elvish. The hobbit gaped as the pair approached the balcony; Elrond's companion was a tiny, shimmering girl.

Well, not tiny by his standards. She was perhaps a head shorter than Bilbo. But in comparison to the elf lord she looked positively doll-like. She moved in ripples of silk in the palest turquoise, arms bare, waves of silvery hair falling past her shoulders and down to the middle of her back, carefully set away from her face with jewelled pins and fine lengths of beads. Her eyes never left Elrond as she walked beside him, flashes of bare white feet visible from beneath her gown as she mounted the steps. As they approached, Bilbo spun quickly in his seat, ducking his head and attempting to appear nonchalant. It wouldn't do well to be caught staring at who he assumed was their host's daughter bug eyed like that.

When they were past he stole a glance back over his shoulder, jaw slackening when to his surprise Thorin himself got to his feet and gave the new arrival a shallow but sincere bow. When the dwarf straightened he saw the girl incline her head before drifting away from Elrond's hold, settling on a bench beneath the golden tree that was shading the balcony, her gaze out across the valley. Bilbo leant forwards in his seat to try and get a better look at her, when he felt Balin nudge him in his side.

"Come on, Lad. We're going to find some real food."

The hobbit stammered for a moment, looking for some reason to stay and perhaps get a better look at the elf child, but he could find none and so a few minutes later followed the company to what would be their rooms for the coming days, brows knitted in thought.

* * *

The next morning Bilbo found himself wandering with hands in pockets through Rivendell's gardens alone. Elrond had extended the company free reign through his halls, though of course the dwarves had little interest in such an offer. But Bilbo on the other hand had found himself all too eager to accept the invitation. Gandalf had been right; as a child he had gone off into the woodlands around his home alone, convinced that he would find elves. They had long been one of his guiltier and more secret curiosities. He was not about to pass up such an opportunity to learn more of them when it had been handed to him.

The hobbit paused on one of the many ochre coloured bridges that networked their way through the valley, linking the buildings together like one great spider's web. Tilting his head back he looked up into the very faces of the Misty Mountains, the falls of the river Bruinen cutting their way through the stone and smashing in a great froth deep into the valley below. Bilbo found himself smiling in delight, taking a deep breath of the clean, cool air. Already the havoc of the orcs and the trolls seemed far away.

Lowering his gaze he continued his walk, his way gradually descending many dove grey steps arched by statues of graceful women, until he came to the heart of the trees. Beginning to grow warm in the rising summer morning sun, he pulled his jacket off and folded it over one arm, just beginning to consider lighting his pipe, even going so far as to produce it from his pocket and start packing it, when he became aware of a pale shape in the periphery of his vision.

Pipe still resting on his bottom lip, the hobbit turned slowly, to see the elf child from the evening before stood a few feet away, her hand resting on the trunk of a tree, watching him.

Except that now he had a chance to see her properly, Bilbo realised she was not a child at all. She was barely of age by his reckoning, but it was most definitely a woman's face that he was looking at, large eyes of the lightest morning blue gazing at him, set in snowy skin. Her shining silver hair was loose today, catching the morning sun as it framed her lovely face. She was dressed in beaded cream robes, the fabric fine enough that the light shining through them outlined her silhouette perfectly. For a long moment they stood looking at one another, Bilbo almost forgetting how to speak, dumbstruck by her.

Eventually he was able to persuade himself to move, slowly lowering his pipe from his mouth, his voice sticky in his throat.

"Erm, hello?" he mumbled. The girl said nothing and when a few seconds had passed the hobbit broke her gaze to shove the pipe back into his jacket pocket.

When he looked up again the spot where she had stood was empty. Bilbo turned about himself, but he couldn't see her. He took a few hesitant steps over to where she'd been, leaning over to look behind the tree with a small,

"Hm," of surprise when he found she wasn't there. Straightening up, he rubbed the back of his head, frowning in confusion.

"You are no dwarf."

Bilbo jumped as a soft voice behind him spoke, turning on his heel. The girl was there, perhaps five feet away, her head tilted as she looked at him.

"Dwarf? No, that's true enough I suppose," said the hobbit, feeling his face grow warm. Meeting the dwarves had been one thing, but this… This was entirely different.

"Who are you?" she asked, taking a small step forwards. Bilbo swallowed, struggling to find his voice for a moment.

"I'm a burg- sorry, I'm a hobbit," he stammered, bobbing in a nervous bow. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

Much to his surprise the girl broke into a warm smile and she took another step as he straightened up, the gap closing between them. The hobbit could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as she grew close enough to look up at him, her pale eyes roving over his face searchingly. After an uncomfortably extended silence she finally spoke again;

"Too gentle for the company you are keeping," she breathed, her smile faltering briefly. Bilbo's eyes were the size of dinner plates as he stared down at her. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then finally managed;

"Sorry, who are you..?"

The girl laughed then, though not unkindly, and turned away, pulling up the gossamer hood of her gown and heading towards the steps he had come down before. Bilbo gawped at the space where she had been before him for several seconds, then lurched himself forwards, hurrying after her.

She was already at the top of the first flight and he paused, foot on the bottom stair, wondering whether it was appropriate to follow her. As if to save him the dilemma the girl turned to look at him, clasping her hands over her waist, full sleeves billowing past her knees. Bilbo floundered, beginning to feel very foolish.

"At least tell me your name?" he blurted, unsure of what else to say. She gifted him with another of those winning smiles, calling to him,

"And what would you do with it if I did?"

She had him there. He sucked his teeth, looking for something to say, but could find nothing. In the end he said in a rather embarrassed voice,

"I don't know…"

The smile grew, a twinkle in her eye as it did. She nodded her head to him, a lock of hair flashing in the sun as it slipped loose from beneath her hood.

"Good day, master Baggins," she said, turning to continue her journey up the steps. Bilbo watched her go, then flumped heavily onto the bottom one, feeling altogether too much like a doltish tween for his own liking. Rummaging through his jacket, he found his pipe once more and lit it hurriedly, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. Already it was proving to be an extraordinary day.


	3. Chapter 2

**My goodness, thank you so much to all of you for the lovely reviews! I'm absolutely -flabbergasted-. I just hope that you like the next chapter :)**

* * *

For the rest of that day and well into the next, Bilbo did not see the fair girl, half fancying he had imagined their exchange in the woods by the time the evening of the second day arrived. He had found himself subconsciously looking for her though, part of him expecting to find her peering at him from beside some column or from a shadowed doorway. Their fleeting encounter had unnerved him.

On the second night he lay in the enormous, comfortable bed that had been afforded him by the elves, hands clasped beneath his head, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear the dwarves, their voices carrying from their balcony to his. They sounded merry. It must have been well past midnight but he couldn't sleep, his mind was too full.

With a sigh he clambered off of the bed, dressing and looking warily out of the door before he padded down the corridor outside the room. He made his way to Elrond's great library, long shadows being cast across the cool floor by moonlight shining through the ornate and glassless windows.

Bilbo had always had a fondness for libraries. He loved all things on paper; books, maps, letters, amassing quite a collection of his own over the years. Now the musty scent of parchment helped him settle, the familiarity of it easing the queasy feeling of homesickness he was experiencing.

He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, working his way up a small spiral staircase to find a circular alcove at the top of it, a mural running around the entire length of the wall, though parts of it were shaded from sight by heavy silk curtains. In the centre of the room there was a podium in the shape of a woman bearing a shield, carefully dressed with a dusk grey cloth. Her face was mournful and she was looking down at whatever it was she was carrying as though it was a great burden.

Checking one way then the other over his shoulders to ensure he was alone, Bilbo climbed onto the lip of the podium's stand, stretching to peer over the shield, eyes widening when they fell upon six razor-looking shards of a sword, the largest piece still attached to the long ebony hilt.

"It is called Narsil."

The hobbit stumbled away from the stand, hand on his chest as his heart leapt into his mouth. Whirling about, lo and behold there she was, the small girl once more, eyes catching the light as she smiled at him. Bother. That was twice in as many days she had made his skin leap away from him. He tugged on his shirt firmly, trying to put himself to rights, clearing his throat. Her smile grew and she inclined her head to the left.

"Come. I will show you," she said softly, turning to walk around the statue, bare shoulders catching the moonlight. Bilbo hesitated for a moment, cursing the fact that once again his voice seemed to have taken a little holiday. He lent to peer around at the girl, seeing her pause before part of the mural and look back over her shoulder at him. The hobbit blinked, then with an uncomfortable smile went and stood politely beside her, following her eyeline.

He was looking up at a man, a soldier in a winged helm, clutching the self same broken sword that was arranged on the podium and reeling back away from a dark behemoth who was bearing down upon him.

"Narsil was forged by the greatest of all dwarf smiths and belonged to the king of men, Elendil. When he fell in battle his soon took up the broken pommel and used the shard to defeat the dread lord Sauron. Elrond has the pieces here for safekeeping," the girl said quietly as they looked up at the painting. She reached up a slender hand to brush the prince's terrified looking face carefully, her smile fading, features becoming impossible to read.

"Isildur was killed by orcs in the end," she whispered. Bilbo looked at her carefully as she let her hand fall to her side once more, lost somewhere in a deep thought. After a few moments she glanced up at him and they stood gazing at each other levelly for several protracted seconds until Bilbo heard himself saying,

"I'm beginning to think you're following me…"

That brought the smile back. She broke his gaze and peered back up at the painting, linking her hands.

"What are you doing with Thorin and his company?"

The hobbit opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, looking a little guilty.

"I don't think I'm supposed to talk about it," he said finally. "Particularly here. Thorin doesn't seem overly fond of the elves."

The girl nodded slightly, as if thinking, then said,

"Is it the dragon?"

Bilbo stared at the girl aghast.

"How did you…?"

She laughed, turning away from the wall and heading towards the narrow staircase, saying as she did;

"It is always the dragon. Ever since I can remember."

The hobbit watched her for a moment as she began to make her way down the steps, then defied his own reason and skidded after her. At the bottom of the steps she turned to make her way out of the library, Bilbo shivering as they emerged into the night air. It wasn't June yet and the evenings could still pinch with cold fingers.

"You know Thorin, then?" he said as he drew level with her, buttoning up his frock coat as he walked.

"A little. When I was a child he would stay in my father's house some nights when he passed our way. But he would never settle for long. And always his talk would turn to Smaug." She stopped, turning to look at him, her alabaster skin gleaming in the moonlight. "What does he want with you, though?"

Bilbo blinked, wondering if he should feel offended by her question.

"What do you mean?" he asked, a crease of a frown beginning to appear in his brow.

"You are not like them," the girl replied, her eyes flickering upwards. The hobbit looked back over his shoulder to follow her gaze, seeing a fire flickering on the dwarves' balcony.

"You are not a soldier or a lord, I think," he heard her continue. "I do not understand…"

Bilbo felt his chest swell as pride took over, jamming his hands into his pockets and drawing himself up to his full height.

"I am their burglar," he said ostensibly. The girl tilted her head, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.

"Their what?"

"Erm, I'm a thief. Sort of," the hobbit added lamely, quickly deflating.

"You do not look much of a thief, master Baggins," she said, smiling brightly, her eyes shining. Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck, his ill-placed confidence quickly dwindling.

"Well, in truth I'm not. Not at all. I've just sort of… Been roped into things. It was nothing much to do with me." He let out a low sigh, leaning his weight from one foot to the other. The girl regarded him silently for a long moment and he began to feel uncomfortable once more.

"It was Gandalf's idea," he added by way of an explanation. Her smile broadened, warm and kind.

"And you listened to him?" she said softly.

"Yes…" Bilbo replied, not for the last time regretting the fact.

"Hm." She turned away from him, beginning to walk once more, saying as she did;

"Aereya."

"Beg your pardon?"

She paused, looking back at him from beneath the fine sheet of silver hair.

"Aereya. It is my name. Better that I give it to you freely than you steal it from me," she said, laughter in her voice. The hobbit stared at her open-mouthed as she walked away, then felt himself break into a bemused smile.

* * *

In the morning he sat at the breakfast table on the balcony with his cheek slumped in his hand, trying to resist the temptation to doze off. Only a handful of the dwarves were there, Balin and Nori amongst them, the rest apparently preferring to raid their packs for their food. The hobbit couldn't blame them really. The thought of sausages and bacon seemed extremely appealing that morning.

Bilbo closed his eyes, telling himself he would only rest them for a moment. After his second meeting with Aereya he had found it practically impossible to get any sleep at all, seeing the sun rise in sheens of fuchsia and scarlet.

Somewhere above he could hear a lark. The golden morning light was already warming his face, though it couldn't have been ten yet. Just as he was thinking to himself how life in the elvish valley was all rather pleasant, he heard a jovial voice through the haze;

"You alright there, lad?"

The hobbit opened his eyes groggily as Bofur sat heavily next to him, helping himself to a hunk of bread with a grin.

"You look like you could use some hair of the dog!" the dwarf said with a laugh. Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes for a moment and willing himself to come to, Bofur looking at him scrutinizingly from beneath his thick brows.

"Miss somethin' good, did we?"

"I'm not sure," Bilbo replied honestly, letting out an enormous yawn.

"Well, I'm hardly surprised. It's just all thrills here," the dwarf chuckled, gesticulating to their surroundings in between bites of the bread. He clapped his hand in the middle of Bilbo's back firmly, swivelling round in his seat as he did with a swing of his leg. "My advice? Steer clear of the elvish entertainment. Can't be good fer ye' if it gives ye a face like that."

Much to the hobbit's annoyance Bofur ruffled his hair as he stood, pocketing another bit of bread for later, smirking as he left the balcony and looking altogether pleased with himself. Bilbo sank forwards, folding his arms on the table and wondered if he could steal a minute or two's slumber, a small part of him wondering to himself why he hadn't told his friend about Aereya outright…


	4. Chapter 3

**Wow! I can't even... Thank you so, so much for the kind reviews. My mind is honestly blown by how kind and receptive people are being towards this little drabble. Really, thank you. I hope you enjoy the next chapter, feel free to R+R if you do :)**

* * *

On his fourth day in the Last Homely House, Bilbo ventured further than he had yet, well into the golden woods that were at the foot of the valley. He followed the streams that cut down from Elrond's home into the trees, taking care not to stray too far from the water as he explored. About noon he settled onto a flattened bed of rock at the riverside, taking his jacket off and chewing on an apple contentedly. It wasn't home but it was certainly almost as good.

The hobbit had set for less than ten minutes when his ears caught an unfamiliar sound. Half eaten apple held between his teeth as he paused mid-bite, he swivelled to look for the source. A slither of silver between the tree trunks caught his eye, some thirty yards to his right. Letting the apple fall into his hand, Bilbo looked at it debatingly for a moment, then abandoned it, throwing it over his shoulder and scrambling down from the rock.

As he stepped lightly towards the bright figure, the sound stopped and all that he could hear was the movement of water and birdsong. He was practically tiptoeing as he reached them, peering cautiously around the tree trunk to find Aereya sat beneath it, her back resting against the papery bark. She was staring vacantly ahead, eyes glistening with moisture, shimmering trails on her cheeks. She didn't notice he was behind her until he uttered an involuntary,

"Oh…"

At this she started, glancing up at him before looking away again in haste, wiping her face with trembling fingers. Realising what he had heard must have been Aereya weeping, Bilbo paused for a lengthy moment, then spread his coat on the ground and settled down upon it, careful to leave a couple of feet between them. With a sniff, the hobbit undid the cravat tied around his neck, shaking it in one hand to unfurl it. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he held the length of material out to her, careful to keep his gaze ahead and mumbling,

"I don't have a handkerchief, sorry…"

Aereya turned to look at his offering, slowly taking it from him with delicate fingers. She didn't use it, but sat holding the yellow and green silk silently, her gaze slipping forwards once more and glassing over. Bilbo watched her from the corner of his eye, chewing on his bottom lip when he saw a tear slip down her milky skin. Finding himself totally at a loss as to what to do, he reached over and lay a ginger hand on her shoulder, puffing his cheeks before exhaling through pursed lips. Aereya faltered then, closing her eyes as more tears escaped, glistening on her lashes. Her hand went to her mouth as she bit back a silent sob and Bilbo felt a pained frown cross his face. He had no clue as how to help her, so simply sat with her for a long while wordlessly, letting her cry.

For perhaps half an hour they sat like this, until the girl had no more tears left in her. She took one shuddering breath, then another, looking down at the cravat in her hands with a thin smile and running the patterned silk through her fingers. Bilbo watched her, then asked in a soft voice,

"Is there anything that I can do?"

Aereya shook her head, fine hair dancing.

"No. Though you are kind to ask, given that I am little more than a stranger to you." The hobbit shrugged, tilting his head to look at her.

"You're unhappy. That's all that matters, really," he said, careful to keep his voice even.

The girl looked up at him, her eyes shining liquidly. She seemed less ethereal in the daylight hours, though no less lovely. Bilbo gave her a good natured smile, barely aware he was moving his thumb in a tiny, gentle circle on her shoulder as he rest his hand upon it. Aereya returned the smile as best she could, her fingers tightening on the scarf. She sat peering at the hobbit for a time, as though she was trying to read him, leaning in just a little, until just as he began to feel uncomfortable she looked away, saying as she did;

"I did not come here through choice. I was sent here on my father's word. To keep me safe."

Bilbo blinked, caught off guard by the sudden break in the silence.

"Safe from what?" the hobbit asked, his smile fading.

"Goblins," she replied simply. When he looked at her blankly, she continued,

"A pack of goblins tried to attack our home. My brother was one of those who went to fight and stave them off. He was older than I, he would care for me when I was a child. His name was Varnaer. They killed him, less than a moon ago."

She told him all this so calmly that it took Bilbo a few moments to absorb what she was saying. Slowly though, it dawned on him why she had behaved the way she had around the painting of Isildur; it was too strong of a parallel for her.

"Oh, Aereya…" he breathed, finding himself shuffling a few inches closer to her. "That's why, erm…?" He gestured to her with a wave of his hand and she nodded. Bilbo took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, his shoulders sagging.

"I am so sorry," he said sympathetically. "Really, I am…"

She gave him a small, grateful smile, powder blue eyes meeting his own. He gave her shoulder a tentative squeeze, feeling his ears grow warm as she looked at him.

"Thank you, master Baggins," she said softly. The hobbit swallowed, letting his hand fall from her shoulder.

"You can call me Bilbo, you know." he said, looking away and focusing his attention on the tree trunks, the grass, his own feet, anything but her eyes. The girl nodded, drawing her knees up to her chest to rest her chin on them.

"Thank you, Bilbo," she whispered. "Thank you for sitting with me."

Bilbo gave her a sidelong glance, watching as she gripped his cravat tightly, rubbing the fabric between her fingers, and as he watched her a picture was beginning to form for him; it was the picture of someone who was in a very different way as lost as he was. Someone forced from her home into a strange and foreign place filled with giants, who however courteous were still strangers. Someone who'd had that which she cared for whipped out from beneath her without warning. And someone who was desperately lonely…

With an awkward cough Bilbo jumped to his feet, seizing up his jacket and drooping it over his forearm, before looking down at the startled Aereya. Sure that his cheeks were going the colour of ripe plum tomatoes, he held his hand out to her, saying stiffly,

"Come with me."

She stared at his hand for a long moment, then cautiously slipped her cool fingers into his palm, getting to her feet. When she was up Bilbo quickly released her hand, moving it to the crook of his elbow and what he felt was a more polite position. Then, trying to remember he had company and resist the urge to simply dart off and hide from her, he began to lead her up towards Elrond's halls. She walked beside him wordlessly, not asking where he was taking her or why, and to his great discomfort he found this made the hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end.

When they came to the cluster of creamy buildings nestled into the mountain side, the hobbit took her to the chamber that was being shared amongst Thorin's company. Pausing outside, he took a deep breath and gently prised her hand from arm with a nervous smile, then pushed the door open enough to poke his head around and peer inside. Over on the narrow balcony he saw the backs of Kili and Fili, then Ori's youthful profile. The brothers were laughing about something, the younger dwarf looking a little flustered. Bilbo had the suspicion they were teasing him about something or other.

"Lovely," he muttered to himself. He couldn't have handpicked better himself for first meetings. Ducking back into the corridor he gave Aereya what he hoped was a reassuring smile, then pushed the door open fully.

Ori was the first to look up, round hazel eyes growing large in his freckled face as he saw the lucent girl. Aereya stared back at him, rooted to the spot as the young dwarf leant over to prod Fili on the shoulder with one finger, saying in a polite little voice,

"Erm… There's a lady…"

"What are you talking about, Ori?" Fili replied with a snort of laughter, shifting to turn and look back over his shoulder, his lion's mane of golden hair catching the light as he did. When he saw the girl stood shrinking in the doorway he arched a brow, murmuring,

"Well, so there is," and at that Aereya found her feet once more and shrank out of sight into the shadows of the corridor, leaving the dwarves peering up at Bilbo for an explanation. The hobbit opened his mouth, then sighed and shrugged, turning hurriedly away himself, hearing Fili exclaim,

"Huh," thoroughly confused.

In the quiet and the cool of the passageway Aereya was stood with her head bowed, face largely concealed by a curtain of silver hair. Bilbo took a careful step towards her, his voice soft and kind as he said,

"You needn't be afraid of them, you know…"

She glanced up at him and gradually he lent over and took ahold of her fingers, feeling them tremble in his.

"Come on," he said, gently as he could, and led her back to the doorway, to find three extremely curious dwarves stood waiting for them, Fili and Kili flanking Ori, the brothers' arms folded over their chests.

"Well, who's this then?" Kili asked with an impish smile as Aereya allowed herself to be steered into the room, lingering behind the hobbit.

"This, this is Aereya," Bilbo said, turning to look at her with an attempt at an encouraging nod.

"And who might Aereya be?" said Fili, face unusually serious.

"Erm… Well, she's a traveller," the hobbit stammered, feeling his heart skip unpleasantly as Aereya linked her fingers through his, holding them tightly. "She's stopping here a while, like us. All alone…"

He could see Kili staring at their hands, silently praying to himself that he wouldn't get the wrong idea. The young dwarf would never let up if he did.

Please, Bilbo thought to himself desperately. She needs friends at the moment. Please just see that. Please…

"Are you an elf?" Ori said suddenly, the curiosity written all over his face. The brothers looked at her expectantly and even Bilbo found himself looking back at her, eagerly wanting to know the answer. He hadn't been able to establish yet who or what she was, not really. All he had was a name.

But all she did was swiftly shake her head, undoing her hand from his to rope it into the translucent skirts of her gown. Ori broke into a beaming smile, as if this was of enough merit in his books for her to be allowed to stay.

"She's certainly not a long-shanks like them," Fili said, lines crossing his brow as he looked at the girl, weighing her up.

"Ah, leave her be, lads," chimed in another voice, one Bilbo had not expected to hear. Tucked almost out of sight, Bofur was sat cross-legged on the balcony balustrade. He spoke without looking up, concentrating on something in his lap, some small trinket he was carefully whittling from a dove coloured strip of wood. "Sure if Bilbo here says she's true then that should be enough for the lot of us, don't you think? He is one of us lot, after all."

In that moment Bilbo Baggins had never been so glad of anyone as he was Bofur. Placated, the two brother dwarves ducked in sprightly bows to the wary Aereya, introducing themselves, before Ori eagerly stepped forwards and offered her a gloved hand. When she closed her snowy fingers around his ink blotted ones, he shook three times and said sweetly,

"Ori, at your service, miss. You can sit with me, if you like?" He was so polite that the girl couldn't help but smile and she gave a tiny, silent nod, settling down in the sun with the young dwarf who quickly set to showing her the drawing he was doing of view from the window, one of many papers that were spread about him. Bilbo slipped his hands in his pockets with a relieved sigh, watching with a small smile of his own as Ori did his very best to make Aereya feel welcome. He wandered over to Bofur, leaning on the rail and tucking one ankle behind the other.

"Thank you," he said in a low voice, careful to keep out of earshot of Fili and Kili as they sat back down, working between them to fletch new arrows for Kili's quiver.

"No need," Bofur said, eyes still on his job in hand. "She seems a good enough sort. Where'd ye find her?"

"I think she found me," Bilbo replied, taking one hand from his pocket to hook it under his brace habitually.

"Hm."

"I think things have been rather hard on her of late," the hobbit continued, watching as Aereya picked up one of Ori's drawings, tracing her fingers over the meticulous detailing it held in wonder.

"Hm…"

Bilbo peered up at the dwarf with a small frown.

"What?"

"I said nothin'." He brought the miniature carving in his hands closer to his face, blowing the dust he'd created off of it and smoothing his fingers carefully over the grooves he'd made, carefully inspecting his work. "She was tellin' the truth, though. She's not any elf."

Bilbo's frown deepened as he looked back at the fair girl, who was watching as Ori began making fresh marks on his page, oblivious to the fact that every so often Fili and Kili would lean in and whisper to one another with a sidelong glance at her and a mischievous smile.

"It's all very noble of you, of course, bringin' her here," Bofur added, returning to carving tiny curls out of the wood.

"She needed someone to look after her for a moment," Bilbo said softly.

Across the other side of the balcony, Aereya lifted her pale silver head, her glimmering eyes meeting his, and she granted him a wonderfully warm smile, mouthing to him silently,

"Thank you…"

He nodded a little, feeling himself returning her smile with enthusiasm that surprised himself. As she turned back to listen to Ori once more, the hobbit noticed she still had his cravat. She was holding it between both hands, keeping it close to her stomach as though she was afraid to let it go.


	5. Chapter 4

**Wow guys, thank you so so much for the wonderful reviews, you guys are too kind to me -blush-. I feel I should say sorry for the lack of Bilbo/dwarves and instead the huge influx of Aereya/OC background in this chapter. It was really important to me to explore Aereya's relationship with her brother and her father because this has a lot of bearing on choices she will make further down the line and will affect the story as a whole. I also wanted to give people a chance to learn a little more about Aereya. So much of my story is written from Bilbo's perspective and Aereya is so flighty that it could be extremely hard to warm to her, so I figured seeing into a little slither of her world might help. **

**Anyway, I am rambling . I really hope you enjoy it and if you do, please feel free to leave a reviwew :)**

**Oh and some translation notes! **

**Nésa: Elvish for 'sister'. I like the idea of this being a sort of pet name.**

**Althair: Gaelic for 'father'. **  
**deirfiúr: Gaelic for 'sister'. I wanted to give the Orossi their own language but don't have the skill to craft one of my own and always liked the idea of them speaking something similar to Gaelic, so decided to just borrow Gaelic words outright for my story. Please, no Irish people hate me! XD**

* * *

_Aereya sat on the edge of a stone pool within her father's gardens, one leg curled and tucked beneath her, the other languishing down from the rocks to sway, bare toes skimming the grass. She leant over to let her fingertips drift across the surface of the icy water, curious pearly fish surfacing to suck at them fleetingly before darting away, making her girlish face break into a beaming smile._

_"Take care. I have heard it rumoured some of them have teeth, nésa."_

_A warm voice broke her reverie and as she turned to look she felt affectionate lips press her cheek, the smells of leather and beeswax and sweat filling her nose. With delight she leapt down from the pool, throwing herself into the waiting embrace of the laughing man before her, reaching to wind her white arms around his broad shoulders._

_"Varnaer!"_

_"Here I am, little nésa," he chuckled, taking hold of her shoulders to straighten her up and stooping to look at her with inquiring cyan eyes. "You have grown again."_

_Aereya looked up at her brother with a giggle, wrinkling her nose._

_"You have yet to even bathe, haven't you?" she said._

_"And here I thought that you should be glad if I came to you before all else!" Varnaer laughed, turning to offer the girl his arm._

_"More glad if you did not smell of damp hide," she teased, resting her small fingers on his forearm and gazing up at him with adoration as he led her to walk through the gardens._

_He was a clear foot taller than her, a man where she was still a child, lithe but undoubtedly strong. His sleek hair shone a darker platinum to her silver and was slicked away from his face to fall in a smooth sheet past his shoulders. In his profile though, you could see the likeness; the same straight, narrow nose that turned up a little at the tip; the high, fair cheekbones; the smooth, creamy brow. His eyes too. Their mother's eyes they both shared, clear and shining and the brightest blue._

_Varnaer was undoubtedly a handsome man, everyone knew. The loveliest of their people's daughters would regularly offer themselves to him for espousal, though much to his father's despair he had yet to choose a lady, instead preferring to serve his role as soldier out in the mountains. For Varnaer there was only one great love in his life and that was his sister. He looked down at her now as they walked, smiling fondly at the girl._

_"Eight moons has changed you greatly, Aereya," he said, pressing his hand over hers to squeeze her fingers. "You will be a woman soon. Mother would have been very proud."_

_"You sound like Father now," she replied, hitching her skirts with her free hand._

_"I suppose he is beginning to try and match you off?" Varnaer asked, a small frown wrinkling his brow._

_"Not as yet. I believe that privelege is reserved for you alone." She grinned up at him and he paused in his steps, leaning over to kiss the top of her head, something vaguely sorrowful about him._

_"Good," he muttered. "There are blessings in your being the youngest, nésa."_

_Tilting her young face she gazed up at him, concern written in her eyes._

_"Do not be morose now," she said softly. "You are home. Have some joy, at least for tonight."_

_Varnaer gazed down at her, tucking his hand under her chin with a small smile._

_"Forgive me, little one. I forget my place." He smirked at his sister and she smiled back at him, reaching up to tug lightly on a lock of his hair._

_"And in the name of all the Valar, bathe before you present yourself to father!"_

_He laughed then, seizing her around the waist and scooping her off the ground to carry her, drawing squealed protests and giggles from her as he cried,_

_"Oh yes, my little Lady! Whatever you command!"_

* * *

_"Gundabad spews more and more goblin filth from it's belly with each passing day! They come crashing upon our borders like waves against the shore. We need more men, Athair!"_

_Aereya sat in nervous silence as she watched the rapidly heating exchange before her, clutching her chalice of watered wine so firmly her fingers were beginning to blanch. Varnaer, now decked in resplendent robes of emerald green and gold, was pacing around the table, his dinner setting long abandoned. Their father sat at the head, hands resting on the ornate arms of his high-backed mahogany seat, his eyes closed in his wizened face as he listened to his son rave around him. An empty place was next to him, the seat that had always been their mother's, untouched now._

_"I lost four men in one night while on patrol. Four! How long do you think it will be before they come down into the valley?" Varnaer's face was colouring as he paused in his pacing, stooping to lean towards his father, hands resting on the older man's forearm. "This cannot be ignored, Athair. If they cross into our territory they will decimate us…"_

_A pregnant pause filled the air, then the elder man slowly lifted a hand to hush Varnaer, opening his eyes to look up at his son. Aereya held her breath, her chest burning, the tension palpable between the two._

_"You would do well to guard your words, my son," her father said, his voice low and even. "You will incite hysteria."_

_"Then let me incite it!" Varnaer cried, straightening and throwing his arms wide. "It may do the people some good!"_

_The older man shot to his feet, a gleam in his narrowed eyes. Their father was as tall as Varnaer was, his chiselled features lined with age but still beautiful, profile proud and angry now as he glared at his son, softened only a little by a closely cropped shadow of a beard, his lips thin and pursed with simmering temper. Vaarith carried himself as a lord borne of a line of lords would and he did not take to being bellowed at in good stead._

_"Curb yourself, boy!" he roared, Aereya flinching as he did and setting her cup on the table with trembling fingers before she dropped it. "Your Father I may be but I am also your King! You dare raise your voice to me!"_

_"If it will give you cause to listen, yes!" Varnaer barked._

_"I have heard all you have said. What would you have me do? There are no more men, Varnaer! You think we could even attempt to hold back to goblin horde if they reach us? There is no defence to be found for us in battle! That is why we chose secrecy. For centuries, secrecy has kept us safe and whole, here in this valley. If you seek war with the goblins you would have it and you would lose!" Vaarith's chest visibly heaved as he finished, face relaxing into a mask of worries that he had carried across endless years._

_"What would you have me do?" he asked again softly, holding his hands out to his son, imploring. "If there was something that could be done, my son, do you not think I would have done it? Secrecy is all that we have now…"_

_Varnaer stared at him, nostrils flaring, before gradually his shoulders slumped and he bowed his head. The elder man stepped forwards, taking his son by the shoulders and fleetingly kissing his brow, wordlessly forgiving him._

_"You did not see them, Athair," Varnaer mumbled, a tremor in his voice. "Vermin in the night, slithering down the mountain faces, their eyes gleaming like yellow fire. Killing my men…"_

_"I served as guard for Hithaeglir once too, remember?" the King said gently, resting a supporting hand on the back of his son's neck. "But you… You will not be a soldier for much longer. It will be your duty to care for this realm when I am gone. You cannot let our people slip into despair, even in the face of our ending…"_

_Varnaer's eyes flickered up to meet his father's, widening in horror._

_"Our ending?" he whispered. Vaarith looked at him levelly for a long moment, then stepped back, pushing on his son's shoulders to force him to straighten up, his reserved, regal manner returning to him in a well-practised moment._

_"Enough," he said, tone clipped. "This is not talk for your deirfiúr to hear. Tend to her now and we shall speak more when morning comes."_

_Varnaer looked at him in stunned silence, then nodded slowly and paced around the oval table to take Aereya's arm, voice soft as he pulled her to her feet;_

_"Come, little nésa. Father is right. To your chambers now, come."_

* * *

_Aereya walked in stunned silence through the moonlit halls of her Father's house, columns casting strips of shadow on her face, the only sound Varnaer's boot heels as he moved beside her stone faced. As they reached the sheer curtain partition between her chamber and the corridor he snatched out suddenly, grabbing her hand and tugging on it to pull her tightly into his chest._

_"I will not let anything happen to you, Aereya," he whispered into her hair as he embraced her. "Father may be complacent but I am not. I will look after you."_

_The girl frowned into the woven silk of his robe, wrapping her little arms around his waist and squeezing cautiously._

_"I know, Varnaer," she breathed, nuzzling her cheek into chest and hearing him release a weary laugh._

_"My little nésa," he said softly, smoothing a hand over her hair. "I look at you and all I see is the babe you were the day you were born. Do not let anyone change you, hm?" He kissed her crown, then released her, pulling back the flowing curtain and pressing on her back to encourage her inside._

_"Sleep. Do not think of the ills from tonight. Men's tempers are generally to be ignored."_

_Wanting to comfort him, she gave him her brightest and most winning smile, nodding._

_"Oh, I learned that long ago," she said. "When you and Father argue now, I simply think of rutting boars and it all becomes quite amusing."_

_Varnaer returned her smile, though his was stiff and forced._

_"Perhaps I shall conjure up some tusks and then you can laugh at me, hm? But not tonight. Go to sleep, little one."_

_He let the curtain fall between them and she nodded up at him slowly, her voice hushed._

_"Yes, brother. And you, will you rest for me?"_

_"For you, of course," he said and gave her a small bow, watching until she turned away and took herself off into the inner rooms and beyond his sight._

* * *

_Gnarled, yellow hands caked with filth that stuck to the cracks in leathery skin grappled with the lip of a stone window, a frustrated hiss sounding as flyaway chiffon curtains picked up in the night breeze and caught the twisted, swollen face of a nocturnal marauder who had scaled the palace walls._

_Within the room Aereya turned over in her vast bed, shivering in her sleep and pulling the covers closer to her chin. The floral scent of the girl drifted out to the goblin scout and he retched, then dragged himself up, crawling silently into the room on all fours. A moment later a second shadowed face appeared in the window, then a third, a few chattered and guttural words exchanged between the three before they too climbed inside. Gradually they got to their feet, their forms stooped and hunched, the first one to climb over the sill loping over to Aereya's bed, leering down until his face was inches from the sleeping girl's._

_"Kill it, quick!" snarled one of his companions, seizing his own stone knife from the belt that hung loosely around his protruding belly. "Before it squeals!"_

_"Shut up!" the apparent leader of the group spat back. "Ye'll wake it. There might be more in 'ere."_

_The goblin loomed closer to Aereya, pulling a crudely fashioned dirk from it's sheath at his hip and using the tip to flick a lock of hair away from her cheek, drawing the point over her skin._

_At this the girl's eyes fluttered open, growing huge in terror, a muffled scream erupting from her as the goblin clamped it's stinking hand over her mouth and pinned her to the bed._

_"I told you to kill it!" rasped his fellow, leaping onto the bed to seize the thrashing girl's ankles and help hold her down. The third goblin was cackling with laughter, scurrying around and beginning to help itself to some of the shining trinkets that adorned the girl's chambers, tossing them over his shoulder when they bored him. Tangled in her sheets, Aereya fought against her attackers convulsively, slapping away the knife with a well placed blow and sinking her teeth into the hand over her mouth._

_"Gaaaaaagh! Ye little witch!" The goblin stumbled back from the bed, clutching his hand, oily black blood splattering onto the floor. She'd broken the skin._

_The girl spat out a mouthful of sludgey fluid, grappling against the scout still holding her and screaming at the top of her lungs;_

_"Varnaer! VARNAER!"_

_A roar rang through the chamber, the prince bursting through the curtains, two guards flanking him, needle-point sword flashing in his grasp, cleanly lopping the goblin's head off as in a great leap he ran over her bed. Frantic, fear filled cries filled the night as the remaining invaders tried to flee but were felled by the guards, a table of combs and jewellery crashing over as they were driven down. Shell-shocked, Aereya was vaguely aware of strong arms slipping under her knees and round her back, carrying her cradled out of the rooms, running through corridors, guards and servants frantic around them, distant yells of more goblins being dispatched. They descended one narrow flight of spiral stairs, then another, into the cool beneath the ground, the floury, cindered scent of the kitchens washing over her. Then Varnaer was setting her down on the end of a table, seizing a bucket of water, scooping it up in cupped hands to wash the blood off her face, forcing her to drink it from his fingers and swill it around her mouth before spitting it out. He grabbed one of the cook's cleaning rags, rubbing her face and arms with it firmly, dipping it into the bucket to try and staunch the inky stains out of her nightshift. She began to shake violently, looking up at him ashen faced as he scrubbed her, asking in a cracked voice;_

_"Is this Father's ending, Varaner..?" He cupped her face, eyes burning as he shook his head quickly._

_"No, nésa, no. Just a wandering scout party. You are safe now. I have you. You are safe."_

_She nodded, feeling dizzy as the rush of fear and adrenaline began to slump, making her nauseous. As Varnaer swore while still struggling to clean her clothes she fell onto him, arms around his neck and he abandoned the rag, gripping her tightly._

_"I am so sorry," he groaned, voice cracking, his eyes shining with tears as he swayed with her gently. "I should have been there sooner. I am so, so sorry, Aereya. I swear to you, I will never, ever let this happen again…"_

* * *

_Aereya shivered, cold and exhausted, her body aching from her night's trials as she looked up at Varnaer, fully bedecked in embossed silver armour of their house, his face grim. Their father stood with his arms folded around her, a heavy wool cloak swamping them both, and as Varnaer bowed to them, she felt him rest his chin on her crown in a small, protective gesture._

_When the prince straightened he stepped forward and lay a gentle, mournful kiss on her cheek, then hooked his finger under her chin, saying softly;_

_"I return to my duties. Curse these creatures, that they should tear us apart again so swiftly. I fear that soon I shall not know my sister at all…"_

_"You do not have to go," Aereya said, feeling tears prickling in the corners of her eyes._

_"I do," he replied with a smile. "I would not trust any other to protect our house as earnestly as I. I will pick these mountains clean, and then return, but not a moment before it is done."_

_He stepped back, crossing his fist across his chest in a salute and his father nodded to him, dismissing him. Then he was striding towards his small band of soldiers, waiting with bridled ponies, smiling back at her with a wink he heaved himself into his saddle. Leaving…_

_Disappearing…_

Aereya lurched forwards in her bed, waking violently from her dream, gasping as she struggled to draw in lungfuls of Rivendell's fresh morning air. Her sheets and nightclothes were damp with sweat, hair clinging to her skin and for a moment she fought with all she was worth not to fall into weeping.

So long. Almost two winters since Varnaer had left. Left for her. Because of her. To keep her safe.

The last time she had ever seen him alive. It was so long ago and yet she could not escape it. Stood there, still a child, watching his shape vanish into the foothills of the Misty Mountains and all because of her he would never come back down to that valley again.

As her heart began to slow from it's racing rhythm she clambered her way over the enormous elvish bed and carefully slid off the side, washing her face and arms in a bowl of cool water that had been left for her on a vanity table, only just within her reach. She tore off her nightdress and wrapped a flyaway cream lounging robe around herself, feeling it slip away from her shoulders as she loosely tied the sash about her waist, then stepped out onto the balcony, folding her arms over the balustrade to peer out across Rivendell.

It was early yet, still cool, the scent of grass and wakening leaves carried in the breeze along with the occasional fine spray of mist from the Bruinen falls. Long shadows were being cast by the staggered by the buildings over ochre stone pathways and as she gradually calmed, her eyes drifted to the pale steps leading up to a pagoda, feeling herself begin to smile when she saw the hobbit sat on them. His jacket was strewn over his lap and his hair was a little dishevelled as though he had not long been awake himself. He was lighting his pipe, taking a few experimental puffs on it and tapping his fingers over the bowl to encourage the smouldering. Then, once satisfied, he blew a large blue smoke ring, watched it travel up into the air until Aereya caught his eye.

For a few moments they stared at one another, Bilbo clearly surprised that he wasn't the only one awake. Then he raised a hand and gave her an awkward little wave, biting the inside of his cheek when she smiled back at him warmly before she suddenly vanished back into her room…


	6. Chapter 5

**Hello again, guys! It's me, with another chapter for you! As always, thank you very much indeed for the wonderful reviews etc. I am beyond glad that people are reading and enjoying, even when I depart a bit from the familiar characters of the Hobbit. Luckily, safely back on track with our dear Bilbo and the dwarves now ^^ **

**Just a fair warning to you though, this may be the last chapter for a couple of weeks. I have quite a substantial backlog of art I need to work through. Requests for people etc etc. And if I get time I will post some new Aereya/Bilbo art on my Deviantart account too, for those who are interested! I just did a sketch tonight that I'm considering turning into something proper.**

**Anyway, please do enjoy the new chapter and if you and feel like leaving a review, y'know, that'd be awesome!  
**

* * *

Bilbo bit down on the end of his pipe as Aereya emerged from the building before him, feeling the prickling irritation of a blush threaten to swarm over his cheeks as she appeared from within the veil of shadows that enveloped the open ground floor. As she approached he sat up a little straighter, seeing her smile as he swiftly buttoned up the collar of his shirt properly. By the time she reached him he was up on his feet, bending in a stiff bow that drew a gentle laugh from her.

"Don't," she said and laid her hands on his shoulders, encouraging him to straighten up with careful pushing. Bilbo felt the redness in his face erupt as she steered him to sit back down, settling beside him and pulling her flyaway hair over one shoulder.

"Good… good morning," he eventually managed, holding his pipe stiffly, curls of smoke dancing above them.

"Mm.. Yes. I think so." She smiled up at him, fiddling with something in her lap.

"I meant to thank you, properly, for yesterday," she continued, avoiding looking at him as she hitched the loose fabric of her robe back over her shoulder, though it slipped down again mere seconds later, her fair skin positively gleaming in the morning light. "I did not think anyone would find me, but well… You did, and…"

She fell silent, peering away over her to her right, eyes travelling over the mountain face. Bilbo watched her quietly, feeling a bizarre sickly sensation in the very depths of his stomach as he took in her early morning state; the tips of her hair lifting flutteringly in the breeze, soft folds of her robe skimming her frame, free of all finery and jewels. As he gradually became aware he was downright staring at her, she turned to look at him with a timid smile, her voice vaguely fuzzy in his ears as she said,

"Here, this belongs to you…"

Suddenly she was leaning over, looping something over his head, resting her forearms on his chest to balance herself. Instinctively Bilbo almost went to grab her hands, the queasiness he was experiencing broiling dangerously. He caught himself in time though, arms hovering listlessly in the air as he looked down, eyes widening. She was tying his cravate, slender fingers moving deftly as they pulled the embroidered green and gold silk into a neat knot. She tucked the excess into the top of his waistcoat, patting his chest, then looked up at him, hands still resting upon him.

"There," she said. "Back where it belongs."

Steeling himself, Bilbo managed to look up, his eyes meeting hers, faces mere inches from one another.

"Thank you.." he mumbled, the words sounding distant to him.

"Likewise," she replied, smiling up at him, her cerulean eyes unblinking as she gazed at him.

They fell into silence for several extended seconds, regarding one another, until a distant shout in elvish broke the spell, some morning greeting called high above. Aereya sat up hurriedly, tightening the sash around her waist before she stood, pointedly avoiding his gaze. Bilbo shot to his feet as well, still clutching his now extinguished pipe.

"Good morning, Bilbo" she said , turning on her heel without hesitation to walk purposefully back towards the building. Without thinking he went to follow her, calling out,

"Wait!"

She spun on her heel to look at him, her face unreadable.

"Yes?" she said softly.

"I.." Bilbo swallowed, unable to find any words. Why had he called out to her?

"Good morning.." he eventually muttered, managing an almost apologetic smile. Aereya looked at him levelly, then inclined her head before turning away once more, gripping her skirts in tightly fisted hands as she walked. The hobbit watched her go, the nausea getting worse and wondered to himself if should see about some breakfast to try and settle his stomach…

* * *

In the late afternoon, when the first hints of pink were dusting the sky, Aereya lingered in the cool shadows of the corridor outside the dwarves' quarters, thus far unable to bring herself to knock upon the door. She didn't know what she was doing up there, not really, but had carried a nagging desire about with her all day to climb the stairs to those rooms, one that eventually she could not deny, no matter how hard she had tried to distract herself.

And so she now found herself looking up at the delicately hewn panels of the door before her, sheer cream hood pulled low as she lifted her fingers to tap them lightly on the wood. When after a few painfully long moments she received no answer, she rest both palms on the door, pushing it open slowly and soundlessly, breathing deep as she stepped inside.

As she entered the room she felt a smile twitch the corners of her mouth, the strong scent of pipeweed sweeping over her. She could see the now familiar shapes of Ori and Bofur's backs, as well as a much larger dwarf, a rotund fellow with a shock of red hair and the braid of a beard looped over his shoulder. The three were leaning on the balcony, the brothers indulging in a smoke, Bofur with his arm around Ori's shoulders, peering down at him with a broad grin. He was saying something to him, though Aereya could not distinguish what, but it seemed to be drawing a smile from the younger dwarf. The girl tilted her head, watching for a little while, before carefully picking her way through the strewn contents of half emptied packs, sweeping away the translucent curtains between the room and the balcony to look up at the three, her voice soft as she said,

"Excuse me..?"

Three heads slowly turned to peer at her, Bofur arching an eyebrow.

"Oh, Lady!" Ori said brightly and she nodded to him slightly, not able to help herself from smiling at his greeting.

"Hello again, Ori," she said in a low voice. "I.. I apologise for interrupting but… Well, I was looking for Master Baggins. Is he here?"

Bofur took a step forwards, crossing his arms over his chest, pipe resting on the crook of his elbow.

"Afraid not, sorry, lass."

Trying to ignore the rush of disappointment she was experiencing, the girl nodded again, more to herself than anyone else.

"Oh, of course… Well.. Thank you. I shan't take anymore of your time…" she murmured turning to go, when Bofur moved forwards, pulling off his hat and clutching it to his chest with a genial smile.

"You can always wait here, y'know? It's no trouble…"

Aereya looked up at him from beneath the shadow of her hood with wary eyes, linking her hands stiffly over her stomach. The dark haired dwarf nodded at her encouragingly, beckoning to her with a mittened hand. Her eyes flickered from him to his companions, then briefly to the door, debating, but finally she approached the trio, her footsteps hesitant. Bofur peered down at her, his smile toothy, bowing slightly before gesturing to the copper haired dwarf, still clutching his hat in his hand.

"This is me brother, Bombur. You ever want something more to eat than rabbit fodder, you can always come to him, a'right?" he said with a laugh and Bombur nodded eagerly, looking altogether proud of himself. Bofur patted his brother's elbow fondly, still smirking, then replaced the fur lined hat on his head once more before looking back at the girl.

"Well, you best not hover like that all day, lass, you'll make the place look untidy. Come on, now, enjoy the sun while it lasts. We don't bite. Well. Not much…"

He tipped her an amiable wink, tugging the rim of his hat down a little so it sat squarely on his forehead, then stepped to one side, opening a space for her beside them. Feet tingling as she moved, Aereya took a few cautious steps into the warm air, Ori beaming at her before he ducked to one side, rifling through his satchel and producing a leather bound book. As he straightened he whipped the cover open, licking his fingertips to turn the pages rapidly, then with a small noise of triumph rest the volume on the balcony rail, waving the girl over.

"Look, Lady," he said, pointing to the open page. "I finished it. See?"

Unendingly grateful for the young dwarf's unerring friendliness, Aereya drew up beside Ori, peering down at the now complete drawing of the landscape spilling out before Rivendell, Bofur and Bombur returning to their pipes.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, running careful fingertips over the ink Bruinen Falls before her.

"My brothers don't care for this place," Ori said with a small sigh. "Esepcially Nori. He says that the elves are only good for one thing and that one thing shouldn't be mentioned in polite company… But I don't mind it. It smells nice."

Aereya laughed, surprising herself as she did, and rested her hand lightly on Ori's upper arm.

"I am sure Lord Elrond would be glad to hear that," she said. "I cannot think of many compliments better."

The scribe looked at her with a pleased smile and as she asked to see more of his work, Bofur watched her carefully, brow furrowed in thought. Eventually he couldn't help himself;

"Did you come far then, lass?"

Aereya paused mid sentence, turning to peer up at him and the smile she had been wearing faltered.

"I'm sorry?" she said softly.

"Well, Bilbo said himself you were travellin," he continued, looking out across the valley rather than at her. "So. Did ye come far?" He tucked one ankle behind the other, taking a long pull from his pipe as she stared at him in stunned silence for a moment. Finally she found her voice, though barely;

"Not very…"

"Hm. Well, that's good. Beggin' yer pardon but you don't seem the hiking sort."

He turned to meet her eyes, crinkles around his own earthy green ones from his warm smile. He looked her up and down, then added,

"No. Definitely not."

Aereya lifted a hand to her chest, fingers curling in a limp fist against her bosom as she stared up at him unblinkingly, her mouth open slightly.

"And ye kin, they just let you go on the road all alone?" Bofur continued.

"I… I had company. But they returned home after I was settled," she breathed.

"Bless you. Aye, it's a big world to be alone in, isn't it? Surrounded by folk that aren't your own…" He closed his fingers tightly over the bowl of his pipe to extinguish it, frowning slightly as what little colour there was in Aereya's face drained from it rapidly. He leant over closer to her, shaking his head, resting one hand on her slim shoulder.

"Don't you worry yerself, lass," he said softly. "I don't think there'll be any bother for you here. You're not on your own anymore... Bilbo's a good sort, hm? Don't ye think?"

A small, silent nod of her head.

"And he's not long away from his home. Like you. He's only just venturing out into the world. Needs an eye keeping on him."

Another nod.

Bofur smiled once more, as kind and reassuringly as possible. He didn't want to frighten her, that was the very last thing from his mind. But he suspected…

He'd heard many stories over the years, collected them. As a toymaker it sort of came along with the profession. Inspiration. Something to entertain the children, perhaps draw in some business. And all stories carried at least a grain of truth, a small something at their very core.

Bofur suspected very strongly indeed.

He squeezed her shoulder gently, bending at the knees so he was level with her. There were so many things he wanted to say but couldn't, not in front of the others. In the end he finally settled on;

"You seem like a fine lass. You needn't be frettin' around us. On my honour."

Aereya stared at him, reading his face, then finally nodded again slowly, managing a timid smile.

"Thank you," she said, so low only he could hear it.

"Aereya..?"

The bewildered voice of Bilbo startled them both, the girl shrinking away from Bofur, pulling free from his hand. The hobbit was stood in the doorway, eyebrows arched, his hands in his jacket pockets, looking decidedly confused by the scene before him. Peering down at the girl, Bofur clasped his hands behind his back, murmuring,

"Well, there you go."

She glanced up at him, then scooped up her skirts, Bilbo taking a slow but very deep breath as she reached him. A quiet moment passed between them, then Aereya said softly,

"Would you walk with me?"

In a rush the unsettling churning sensation in his stomach that he had experienced that morning returned to Bilbo. Doing his very best to ignore it, he nodded to her, hands stiffening within his pockets.

"Of course," he said politely, feeling the eyes of the dwarves on the balcony practically boring into him. Without another word Aereya swept past him, eager to leave the room. The hobbit turned to look wordlessly at Bofur, though his quizzical expression made his thoughts all too clear;

_What on earth has been going on?_

The dwarf shrugged and Bilbo let out a small sigh of exasperation before turning out of the doorway once more and hurrying after the girl. As he left, Bofur shook his head, reaching up and adjusting his hat. He didn't like this one bit.


	7. Chapter 6

**Hello again everyone! I hope that you are all well and I am glad to say I finally found a chance to write some more. I had a nice break in between artwork today hehe. Oh and I am THRILLED to have seen some of you on Deviantart too! I hope you have enjoyed the Bilbo/Aereya pictures, there should be some more soon! also, thank you so much as always for the lovely reviews. You guys are awesome xxx**

**Anyway, I hope you like the new chapter!**

* * *

Bilbo skittered down the corridor after Aereya, panting slightly as he caught up with and fell into step with her. They walked in silence, her face largely concealed by her hood, fingers clasped stiffly over her stomach. The hobbit actually struggled to keep up as she led him out of the maze of Elrond's hall and down several flights of terracotta coloured stairs, not stopping to even glance at him. The sun was drifting behind the mountains as it set at their backs, the sky stained red and gold. Gradually she led him away from the settlement and into the woods surrounding them, finally beginning to slow her pace as she drifted between the trees. With a cautious sidelong look at the girl, Bilbo said gently;

"Are you alright?"

She nodded silently, twisting fumbling fingers into her skirts to lift them, as though searching for something to do with her hands. Bilbo arched his brows, then looked away from her, letting his gaze slide over the tree trunks as they walked. He didn't want press her…

"I want to show you something," she said suddenly, turning her heel to look at him, walking backwards with a small smile. "That is, if you don't mind something of a hike?"

"Erm, well no, I suppose not.." the hobbit replied, a swill of nerves rising inside him at her words.

"Quickly then, before we run out of light."

She span back once more and to Bilbo's surprise broke into a run, her pale shape darting away between the silver bark of the birches. He launched himself after her, the sensible, Baggins part of his brain muttering quietly in his ear _'What on earth are you doing, you ridiculous hobbit?'._ He ignored it though, feeling himself break into a grin as he caught up with her, hearing her laugh as she looked over at him before ducking away to the right, weaving between the trees in an attempt to cut him off. He tried to keep sight of her shining form but in the end lost her altogether, grinding to a halt in the rapidly darkening woods, hands falling to his sides as he drew several deep breaths before calling out.

"Aereya? Aereya, I think I'm lost!"

He turned around a few times, then released a sigh, rubbing his cheek.

"Bother," he said under his breath. "Well, that's what you get for behaving like a child, isn't i-"

He was stopped short as he felt cool fingers grasp his and tug gently, looking up to see Aereya's clear eyes twinkling beneath her hood as she smiled at him.

"It is this way. Come with me."

She pulled on his hand and Bilbo allowed himself to be led blithely, his skin humming where it touched hers. She guided him out of the close knit canopy of trees and into the cooling evening air, the sun almost gone now. The hobbit let out a small noise of surprise as they emerged onto the very precipice of a mountain face, the valley plummeting away far beneath them, cutting deep into the landscape. At the very foot of the ravine the vein of the Bruinen was pulsing ever strong, it's currents rushing towards a distant and dark forest, an inkblot on the page of this foreign country.

Aereya inched closer to the brink, until her toes were touching the very edge as she peered down. With a gasp Bilbo pulled on her hand sharply, snatching her back, bright blue eyes looking up at him in astonishment as he flustered;

"I - You could have fallen…"

She looked up at him for a long moment then smiled, releasing her hand from his grip and taking a few steps back. Turning, she gestured towards the world beyond the valley with an incline of her head, saying softly;

"That will be your path. Out there…"

Stepping forwards gingerly, Bilbo looked out at the sheer vastness of what lay before him, his heart palpating as he took in the view.

"It's so far…"

"It is," Aereya replied, stepping beside him and pushing her hood away to fall down her back. Following Bilbo's gaze, she asked in a low voice;

"Why are you doing this? It isn't for the gold, is it?"

The hobbit shook his head, still looking shell-shocked as he absorbed the journey that would be waiting before him.

"Then why, Bilbo? I do not understand… Do you not miss your home?"

Tearing his gaze away he peered down at her with a wry smile.

"Always," he said in hushed tones. "More than anything…"

"But you are here none the less?"

Bilbo nodded, then looked back out at the valley and all the country that lay beyond, something mournful in his voice as he said;

"My house was stuffed to the gills with dwarves. Loud, brash, invasive, totally uninvited and perfect stranger dwarves. Well, dwarves and Gandalf of course. I did my best to tell them no, that the Shire was my home, where I belonged and I wouldn't be going -anywhere- with them.

"And so in the morning they were gone, just as I wanted. I was alone again, in Bag End. I'd gotten my own way. Except that suddenly it seemed so vacant. Cold even. And I had this moment where I thought 'Is this it? Is this really all that will be for me..?'

Next thing I know I'm out my front door without so much as a backwards glance. I suppose I went temporarily mad…"

He let out a low chuckle, shrugging his shoulders, then craned his neck to look up at the sky. The last glimmers of sun were vanishing, the sable sky beginning to swallow the horizon from view.

"It's getting dark," he said, feeling a little awkward after his moment of truth with Aereya. "Perhaps we should head back up?"

The girl gazed upwards too, a warm smile dancing on her lips.

"The dark is safe here. Imladris is veiled from the world. Besides, the stars are coming out, see?"

She lifted an arm to point up at the pinpricks of light coming into being above them, leaning her shoulder against him so he could follow where she was gesturing better.

"Look. There is Wilwarin. And Valacirca there, the seven stars to the north. The hope of the elves gifted by the Valar, according to legend…"

Bilbo tilted his head to get a better view, then laughed briefly, pointing upwards himself.

"That one there?"

"Yes. With the tail."

"Hm… Well. In the Shire, we call that one the Plough. Because it looks like farming equipment. I think we've rather de-romanticized it, don't you?"

He grinned down at her and she looked back at him with a laugh, dropping her arm.

"The Plough? Goodness, do not let the elves hear you say that!"

"No, no, best not," he said. "I am not entirely sure they would see it in good humour…"

She nodded with a smile, then looked back up at the sky, her eyes reflecting the growing starlight.

"The Shire sounds a fine place. Simpler than here," she said softly.

"It is," Bilbo said with a small sigh. "There aren't any palaces or mountains, but it's a green country with good people who don't ask for much in life…"

"I suppose that is the thing about the stars," Aereya said in a quiet voice. "No matter where you are, they are always the same. The sky here is the same as the sky in your Shire. It is the one piece of home that you never leave behind…"

The hobbit rubbed the back of his head, scanning his eyes over the night's vista.

"I've never really thought of that," he said. "It's quite comforting actually, I-"

He stiffened as chill fingers laced their way through his. He looked down, seeing Aereya's white hand holding his tightly. Not so that she could lead him anywhere, not to steady herself , or him. Her fingers were interlinked through his, holding them tightly. Securely. Just for the sake of holding them…

For an achingly long moment they stood in silence together, till Bilbo finally worked up the nerve to look at her face, seeing a fine sheen of pink in her cheeks.

"I'm not the only one who's homesick, am I?" he said gently. She didn't answer, keeping her gaze fixed ahead. Bilbo swallowed, then squeezed her fingers a little, feeling them grow warmer in his hold. He traced his thumb over hers and she looked up at him then, gazing silently at him.

"It's alright," he mumbled, trying to offer her some assurance. She gave him an apprehensive smile, then looked back down into the valley below, whispering,

"I have never been beyond my country's borders before. I did not think my first time would be like this…"

Bilbo bit the inside of his bottom lip, then increased his hold on her hand a little more, saying in as light a tone as he could manage,

"Neither did I."

She looked back at him with a wan laugh, a glimmer of fondness in her eyes making the hairs on his arms and legs stand on end.

"But here we are…"

"For a while at least. I won't be staying in Rivendell long, as much as I'd like to," Bilbo said despondently. "Thorin won't wait forever."

Aereya sighed, her gaze dropping to her feet and the hobbit frowned, feeling a strong urge to pull her closer to him which he had to work very hard to deny. He barely knew her but he was beginning to feel oddly attached to her, this strange, flitting creature that would have every nerve exposed one moment then be a closed book the next…

"Come on," he said, beginning to steer her away from the plateau's edge. "It's going to get cold out here soon. I'm taking you back."

As they made their way through the trees once more Bilbo tucked the hand he had been holding into the crook of his elbow, trying to ignore the peculiar response his stomach was producing at the sensation of her fingers on his bicep. When they came out of the trees on the other side and to the first ruddy steps towards Rivendell she drew away from him, pulling her hood up over her shining hair once more. For a moment the hobbit felt a flicker of disappointment, before he tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat firmly as she turned to him and said,

"I can make my own way from here. I do not wish to take any more of your time."

Bilbo quickly raised his hands, shaking his head.

"Nonono," he said rapidly. "You're not! I mean, if you want my time, then well… I.."

He let his arms fall to his sides once more, curling and uncurling his fingers in an awkward manner. He heard Aereya laugh, a silken, warm sound and a moment later felt her curl her fingers around his again loosely, stepping close to gaze up at him from beneath the canopy of cream chiffon covering her head.

"Then I will find you," she breathed.

Bilbo looked back at her, hoping beyond hope that his face wasn't flushing and nodded a couple of times. Aereya bowed her head, then released his hand and turned away. The hobbit lingered and let her walk a little way ahead of him, sure that it would be better manners to let her make her way alone as she'd wanted. Not to mention he wasn't entirely sure what the others would make of it if they saw them arm in arm.

Eventually he made his way back to his room, sitting heavily on the end of his bed, his feet dangling off the floor. Rubbing his fingers in the palm of the opposite hand thoughtfully, he took a deep breath, hearing the approaching voice of Kili calling his name, enquiring with a yell whether he wanted to join them for dinner. For the first time he could remember in his entire life though, he was quite put off the thought of food, his insides rolling in a very unpleasant way…


End file.
